


Moving Forward

by TelepathJeneral



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Touchy-Feely, snow and solitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral





	Moving Forward

It’s quiet when the snow falls, which is traditional for snow and winter and cold. People stay inside, most of the time, and those with warm blood in their veins huddle around heaters and curse the wind. There is such a small range for humans to survive, such a small combination of light and air and heat and cold that they can tolerate. But they make it, somehow, and the world keeps turning.

For those unhindered by human needs, the snow is a blessing. Simon is not the first to realize this, but he is the first in Roarton to watch as Kieren stands in the falling snow, snowflakes unmelting on his face and trapped on his eyelashes like butterflies. The undead-the Risen, the Redeemed, whatever name they take-they are all discovering this new power of theirs, but Simon earnestly believes that Kieren is the only one who makes the experience seem so angelic.

“I don’t even feel it.” Kieren smiles hesitantly, his joy a hidden thing. Like a light hidden behind a frosted window pane, Kieren’s happiness is a quietly powerful object, and Simon smiles at the chance to study it.

“The temperature isn’t a factor. And the snow doesn’t care if you’re dead or alive.”

“That’s a bit morbid, don’t you think?” Kieren’s glance is more questioning than accusatory, and Simon takes the chastisement in stride.

“We’re the undead, Kieren. Morbidity is the least of our concerns.”

Kieren does quiet at that, returning his attention to the gray skies above and the perfect flakes filtering down below. Simon turns instead to the ground beneath his feet, and crunches the snow beneath his boots to feel the faintest resistance. The ice is still dangerous, if a Risen happens to fall the wrong way, but he’s been careful so far.

It was entertaining, at times, to leave the heat off in the bungalow and watch the stove freeze over. Kieren never really minded, and they didn’t need to waste money on the heating. However, there would be times when Jem would visit, at Kieren’s insistence, and the unfortunate presence of a living being in his home would force Simon to turn the heating on, just for a day.

Ah, now the lovely Jemima. Simon steps closer to Kieren as he considers the younger sister, slipping a hand into Kieren’s pocket to feel his presence close. Jemima had been understanding. Kieren was so good, helping her, and caring for her, and the love between the two was obvious. Simon refused to consider the possibilities if he had had a sibling, but left the speculation for another day, and instead focused on being a courteous host. Kieren’s parents had been more than understanding. It was the least Simon could do to offer a hand of friendship to Jemima.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Simon lies, finding Kieren’s hand. “What are you thinking about?”

“You first.”

There is a pause, but Simon manages to work up the nerve, and sighs to watch his breath flutter the snowflakes. “Your sister.”

“Oh.” Kieren quiets slightly, kicking a small tuft of snowflakes, and shrugs in his oversized coat. “I was thinking about Christmas Eve.”

“Not Christmas itself?” Simon lets his eyebrows rise, his expressions more than indicative of his mood. “You do have odd interests.”

“Christmas I can handle. But Christmas Eve…” Kieren shrugs again, keeping a firm grip on Simon’s hand. “They have the Nativity scenes. And all the speeches about the Christ child, and His life, and His death, and-“

“There’s no church, Kieren. No one to worry about.”

“Yeah, but Dad likes to at least read the story. It’s just something you do. And how-how could they sit there, thinking about…about ‘Him’, and how He lived and died? I was there, Simon. I was there in death, and I came back. Would they even think about that?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Kieren.” Simon repeats his name, using it as an anchor to keep Kieren from following dangerous trains of thought. “Are you worried about yourself, or about them?”

“Both.” Kieren turns to take both of Simon’s hands, placing his shoes on Simon’s toes. “I’m a part of the family, yeah? But I don’t know if they want to even think about Jesus anymore. I know I don’t.”

“Then don’t.” Simon leans forward, kissing the tip of Kieren’s nose. “Spend the night with me. We’ll read a different story. Rewrite the story, even.”

“I can’t just leave them, Simon.” There is a hard edge to Kieren’s voice, and Simon knows not to push too far. It was easier for him, when his father unceremoniously tossed him aside. But Kieren’s family had sought him out, and accepted him, and fought for him. Kieren’s situation was different.

“Have you asked them about it?”

“About what?”

Simon huffed quietly, rocking on his heels. “About this. About Christmas Eve. You are important to them, and I’m not just saying that. You should mention it.”

“But Jem’s been doing so well…”

Simon frowned, but said nothing for a moment, holding Kieren’s hands. “If she cannot understand why this would be difficult for you, then she hasn’t been doing as well as you think.”

“Simon-“

“It’s not that hard, Kieren.”

“Yes, but what about you?” Kieren has backed away slightly, holding out his arms to leave some distance between himself and Simon.

“What about me?”

“They’ll want to know if you’re coming. Mum thinks you’re important. So if we do have a Christmas Eve…would you want to come?”

Kieren’s eyes take on that puppy-dog liquidity, pulling at Simon despite his confusion. He’d never considered the idea, truly-but it would have to be addressed. And soon.

“I could come. If they would have me.”

“They’d love to have you. I’m sure of it.” Kieren manages a larger smile, drawing closer once more. “I’d love to have you. And honestly, if it gets uncomfortable, it might be best to have someone else there to help.”

“Always.” Simon promises, his entire devotion, his catechism, his adoration summed up in a single word, and he leans down to cover Kieren’s lips with his own in a soft kiss. The touch is gentle, and cold, like the falling snow. But Simon knows that no living person has ever felt as happy as he has in this moment.


End file.
